Chaos in the Name of Science
by Isaboo
Summary: With a change of family and a love of books, Harry Potter is set to take Hogwarts by storm (lightning effects provided by homemade Tesla Coils that run on magic). With his best friends at his side, Harry will find that the magical sciences are every bit as fun and explodey as the muggle ones. Ravenclaw Harry. Future: HP/GW, RW/HG.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So, this is really a prologue. I'm going to whip through a quick summary of Harry's life, ages 6 to 11, with some key changes. Yes, it's all very fairy tale in the convenience of how things fall together, but I want a very specific Harry to result from this, and this is fan fiction. Trust me, this is one of the least weird alternate-Harry setups I've seen.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do love him eternally, though.

Chapter One: Changes

Number Four, Privet Drive was a perfectly normal home, on a perfectly normal street, in the perfectly normal town of Little Whinging, Surrey. The Dursleys were so perfectly normal that they believed themselves exceptional, a common mistake among their type of people. They believed their darling little boy was the perfect, normal, exceptional child they wanted, while their nephew was everything that should be avoided or eliminated in a person.

Harry James Potter, their six year old nephew, learned very quickly that he was not exceptional in the eyes of the Dursleys. If he did well on the spelling test, it was just proof that he was too freakish because normal little boys like Dudders played in the dirt and had friends, with little or no time for studying. When Harry ingeniously fixed the wiring of Dudley's broken Simon Says, using books from the library with colored pictures to figure out how to do it, that was just a sign that he had no respect for others' property. Dudley didn't want that toy in the house, and it was his to get rid of or destroy.

For the first year and a half of school, Harry had the unpleasant experience of being the target of bullies and the class scapegoat. When Dudley spilled red paint on little Susie's braids, he and his cronies blamed Harry. When Piers Polkiss blew spitballs at the teacher's back, Harry was blamed. Within a month of starting school, the Dursley's were invited to a parent-teacher conference to discuss Harry's behavioral problems.

Things were not looking well for Harry's future.

One day, he walked into the classroom and the teacher wasn't there. The class milled about the room, unwilling to sit like good children but also not wanting to a waste an opportunity to avoid schoolwork while at school. Just as Dudley had enough and was climbing on top of the teacher's desk with a stolen toy to dash on the hard floor, Mrs. Masters walked into the room. The principal took one look at the students and gave them a glare. Suddenly, the desks were filled.

She grabbed Dudley as he tried to rush to his desk, waving another woman into the room as she held him by his arm. "Students, this is your new teacher, Ms. Honey. Unfortunately, our Mr. Hobble has decided to take an early retirement, and will no longer be an educator at this school. Be good."

With that, she left the room, dragging Dudley behind her. The owner of the stolen toy dashed up and collected her doll from the desk as Ms. Honey entered the room and smiled at the class.

"Hello, everyone. I'm Annabelle Honey, your new teacher. Now, I want everyone to introduce themselves one by one, and tell me what your favorite part of school is."

Ms. Honey was pretty, in a soft, maternal way. Harry could tell that she actually cared about what the other students were saying as they introduced themselves. She listened closely and asked a couple questions of each, addressing them by name and seeming genuinely interested in their answers. When it came time for him to speak, from the very back corner away from the windows, Harry stood up with some nervousness. "Hello. I'm Harry, and my favorite is the library."

Ms. Honey was delighted. She was a bookworm herself, growing up, and although she'd never dream of neglecting her other students, young Harry quickly earned a special place in her heart. After his trouble on her first day, Ms. Honey was careful to keep an eye on Dudley and his crew and quickly realized their ploy to blame mischief on quiet, dear Harry. She would have none of that.

Within a month, she had Harry doing advanced work beyond the rest of the class, as it was easily apparent that he knew the syllabus already. Harry idolized her. He was being motivated and rewarded for using his brain for the first time in his remembered life and it was glorious. Turned out, there was an even _better_ library just a block out of the way on his route home! Ms. Honey took them all on a field trip about local sites and included a stop there on the way back. She made sure that Harry was able to sign up for a library card while there.

Soon, Harry was reading two or three books a week, and advancing through reading levels at a prodigious rate. When he found a book about the game of chess and asked Ms. Honey if the school had a set, she took him to see Mr. Wells, who taught on of the upper years. He seemed delighted, both at Ms. Honey's presence and Harry's interest in his favorite pastime. After that, Harry spent almost every lunch period receiving chess lessons from Mr. Wells while Ms. Honey looked on in fondness.

By the end of the year, Harry had the best scores in class by a long, long ways and was able to beat Mr. Wells in one out of ten chess games. Quite an achievement for a six year old, although Mr. Wells was never a truly great chess player. Just an enthusiastic amateur. Ms. Honey made sure that Harry was tested for Gifted classes, and he did so well that he was moved up a year as well.

Although he was no longer in her class, Ms. Honey and Harry remained close over the summer. They would meet at the library every Monday and Wednesday, and some Saturdays as well. Sometimes she'd help him understand more advanced books concerning things like physics or other sciences, meant for young teenagers rather than very small children. Other times she would take him to the park, where Mr. Wells was finally able to introduce him to his other great passion, American baseball.

By the new school year, Harry was a dedicated Oakland Athletics fan, had a working understanding of algebra and geometry, and was completely in love with the idea of engineering. He took to dismantling Dudley's broken toys and using their pieces to make gadgets, oftentimes things that really shouldn't work but somehow turned out alright. Ms. Honey wasn't sure how her lovely electrical tea kettle that Harry fixed for her managed to work without electricity now, or why it no longer over or under heated the water, but she was willing to accept it. Mr. Wells was ecstatic about his upgraded electric chess board, which now had an almost uncanny ability to use almost every strategy in the chess books Harry read from the library, while offering stunningly on-point reviews of his performance at the end of every game. His skills were improving quite readily, allowing him to remain at an eight of ten match win record against Harry, for the moment.

The next summer was much the same, with the addition of Mr. Wells bullying the Dursleys into allowing Harry to play for his baseball team with some other local boys. With their unwillingness to give him anything but Dudley's outcast clothes to wear, he took that as a sign he should outfit his young protégé in the best gear available, using funds from his own trust fund to do so.

Harry also took part in a summer program at the local college, aimed at older students interested in careers in robotics. It took some convincing, but by the end he was almost as talented as the best students in the group at the physical end of building his robots, and had discovered his newest scholastic obsession: Calculus. One of the older boys took him under his wing and gave him an introduction to the most wondrous part of mathematics, and even got him started on learning about Newtonian Physics.

Ms. Honey soon took to including the handsome Mr. Wells in her and Harry's get-togethers almost every time, until she found herself having lunch with him privately every weekend. By the beginning of Harry's Year Three, she found herself going on romantic dinner dates, quite without knowing when exactly she fell in love, but certain it had much to do with Harry's influence.

Mr. Wells made sure to thank his young helper for all the tips on Ms. Honey's favorite food and flowers, and the expert planting of many presents in her desk for the sake of surprising her. A year later, Harry was the best man at their wedding, and the star pitcher of Mr. Wells' champion baseball team.

At nine years of age, Harry spent most of his afternoons at the home of his mentors, who were at this point more like family than his aunt and uncle ever were. All this time, Petunia and Vernon Dursley grew more and more dismayed at Harry's refusal to fit into their idea of "normal," but Greg Wells was from a very rich family and Vernon was too intimidated by his connections to try and keep Harry away from his new family. Still, their passive aggressive ways of showing their resentment became more and more regular over the years. Not long after Greg and Annabelle returned from their honeymoon, they realized the Dursleys were nothing but trouble for Harry.

With a great deal of nervousness, they asked if Harry would consider living with them, provided the Dursleys were willing to sign the adoption papers they'd procured. Harry was over the moon.

This was everything the boy ever hoped for and more.

It was fortunate that a certain Headmaster was away on international business when the Dursleys and Wells's filed the papers, as by the time he returned to the country, Harry Potter no longer considered number four, Privet Drive to be his home, and the wards were broken.

Seeing how happy his young charge was though, he decided to let matters lie, and made sure to set up the strongest wards he could on a muggle home while the entire family was in the States, watching their Oakland Athletics win the 1989 World Series.

Life continued to go well for the new family, Harry very much preferring his new Auntie and Uncle to the old.

A/N: So, there's the set up. The next chapter will be far more like a novel and less like a summary, I promise. Yes, I'm a huge Oakland A's fan, and although I know the UK has teams of its own that Harry would be more likely to encounter, frankly I don't care. Go A's!  
Also, he was around the last time they won the World Series and we could use a bit of HP luck getting them to the playoffs and (God, please, please, please) to the Series this year.

Review and let me know what you think of my prologue-ish-type-chapter. More to come soon, I promise!


	2. Chapter 2: Perfect Game

A/N: Next chapter! Huzzah. I honestly thought I'd do Diagon Alley in this one, but wound up stopping early. I'm going to try and make longer chapters from here on out. Also a shout out to those following the story, The Mang, Chris678, geetak and marinka! You guys made my night!

Disclaimer: I do not own this magnificence. Leave me to my tears!

Chapter Two: Perfect Game

A shrill beeping echoed in Harry's ears as he dragged himself out of sleep into the morning light. Groaning, he mumbled several choice curse words that Auntie Annabelle would be livid with him for using and groped about on the bedside table for his gun.

_Pewpew, pew!_ An almost uncanny aim let the toy laser gun (built last summer) hit the bull's-eye on his alarm clock. Reluctantly, Harry hauled himself out of bed, resetting the roving, robotic clock and putting it back by his bed, ready for wake-up the next day. Gathering jeans, pants, trainers and a Tesla-themed t-shirt, Harry stumbled into the bathroom across the hall, shedding his kinematic equation themed pajamas before stepping into the shower.

Drying off his hair and grinning at its normal chaotic disarray, Harry pulled on his clothes and tidied up a bit before dashing down the stairs as loudly and quickly as he could.

"Bloody hell, Harry, have you turned into a young elephant in your sleep?" Greg Wells came to a quick stop to avoid collision in the front hall after collecting his morning paper.

"Morning Coach! We're going to mutilate those ponces at the game, yeah?" Harry turned around to trot backwards and smile at his exasperated guardian.

"Harry James Potter! What kind of language is that for a ten year old boy?" Annabelle whacked him across the head with her spatula, shoving a plate of chocolate chip pancakes into his hands a moment later.

"Awesome! Thanks Auntie!" Harry beamed wildly at her, dashing to the table and shoveling his favorite breakfast down his maw as fast as possible. Greg raised an eyebrow at Annabelle, and she glared back, as if to say _don't judge, you can't resist spoiling him either_.

"So how goes your tinkering, love?" Anna asked once Harry slowed down a bit.

"It's brilliant! I really stand a chance of winning my weight class this time, Newton's First is in great shape for the games," Harry proceeded to babble about servos and circuits for a few minutes, while Anna and Greg tried to understand his babble. Harry's love of battlebots certainly made for some interesting family outings, but they wouldn't have him any other way.

By noon, Harry was in uniform and ready to go, lucky pitcher's glove on his hand and cap perched backwards on his head. The White Elephants were two time champions of their league, in no little part thanks to Harry's almost unhealthy obsession with practicing his pitches. He'd pitched three perfect games this season, games with not a single hit on his pitches. This was his last year playing in his current league, but fortunately Greg would move up to the older kids' league with him. Hopefully, most of his current team would come back and play as White Elephants next summer as well, though several were going away to boarding school in the upcoming school year.

The family piled into Greg's Subaru, which he insisted was cool, despite being a station wagon. With a great deal of excited chatter from Harry echoing in the car, they drove to the park where the game was to be, beating practically everybody there. They were typically among the first to arrive at any game, partly because Greg was the coach and had to get there a bit early, but mostly because Harry wouldn't stop bouncing around and if you didn't keep him occupied when he got like that, things tended to go boom. Sometimes his latest experiment would be turned into a relatively harmless but weaponized gizmo, sometimes he'd decide to gut the TV and make the pictures a bit wonky.

"Go run a couple laps and then start warming up. And stay out of trouble!" Greg called to Harry as he took off like a shot, dashing around the field at a mad pace, ducking under obstacles and leaping over fences with a disregard for his safety which only children unaware of their own mortality seem to possess. Annabelle once again imagined what would happen if he ever tripped during one of his gallops, and winced.

"No worries love, that boy's got a head of cast iron. Now, can I tempt you with a fine offer of carrying things to the field?" Greg grinned winningly at his wife, who scoffed but grabbed a cooler full of snacks and followed him out.

Unknown to the happy family, in the crowd was Minerva McGonagall. She'd managed to attend several games a season of Harry's baseball career, as well as watching from the crowd when he received the prize for winning a local chess tournament. Though it pained her to admit it, her favorite students' child was a true blue Ravenclaw, but she couldn't be prouder. Watching Harry throw another fastball over the home plate as the batter could do nothing but stare, Minerva felt an almost overwhelming swell of gratitude to the young couple who so altered young Harry's path. She had always known the Dursleys would be all wrong for raising the Potter boy, and thank Merlin he'd found himself a new family.

Today, she'd finally get to meet the young man who so reminded her of his parents but was so wonderfully unique at the same time. _That boy will be a hell of a chaser, that's for sure. Though with those statistics he'd make a wonderful beater as well. Flitwick had best appreciate him._ In her pocket, a thick envelope rested, ready to change Harry's life.

"Good game, good game, good game," Harry said over and over again, shaking the hands of boys who surely wished he'd never been born. Another perfect game to his record, and another team of pissed off young athletes. Finally done with the mandatory sportsmanship, the White Elephants raced to the nearby picnic area, where their parents were going to barbecue a good supply of meat and such.

"Great game, champ. How's your arm feel?" Greg gave Harry a left-hand high-five, always overly cautious of Harry's pitching arm. He was constantly getting Harry to use ice or heat packs after games and practice, determined not to let an injury ruin his boy's chance at the major leagues. You know, years in the future.

"It's fine, Uncle Greg. Auntie, make him stop!" Harry grimaced as Greg strapped a hot/cold pack on his shoulder, rendering his arm useless for the next hour. "Can't you ever let me eat before disabling me after a game? Jeesh."

"Stop complaining and come eat some burgers. We've got a game against Ballycastle next week and I need you fighting fit!" Greg tapped the brim of Harry's hat, now pulled over his eyes, and grinned at Anna, who was rolling her eyes at her boys' antics.

Harry pretended to sulk for a few more minutes, before digging into a plate heaped high with tasty food. Honestly, he didn't mind when Greg or Anna fussed, he actually rather liked it. He still remembered living under the stairs, given barely enough food and never any positive attention. The annoyance of being one handed at dinner aside, he knew Greg fussed because he loved him, and that was pretty OK with Harry.

Back home, Harry tinkered away in his room, trying to get his battlebot ready for a competition the next week, while Greg and Anna shared some quiet time with each other and a couple of good books. The occasional small explosion in Harry's room had long ago stopped worrying them and it was really prolonged silences that heralded bad things in Harry's workshop.

_Knock knock._

"I wonder who that could be. Better not be evangelicals, last batch wouldn't piss off for almost half an hour," Greg groused as he regretfully detangled himself from his wife, leaving his book on the couch. "Hello, can I help you?"

The woman at the door was wearing dark green robes, oddly enough, and had her hair pulled into a severe bun. Despite her strict appearance, Greg felt a definite vibe of approval.

"Good evening, Mr. Wells. I'm here to discuss young Mr. Potter's acceptance into a _very_ prestigious school. His parents were alumnus. My name is Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

A/N: BOOM. Another chapter. Told you it would be more normal-writey-less-summary-writey.

So, this was really just a bit of an intro to the family dynamic. Clearly, Greg's going to become a rabid quidditch fan later in the story, but I rather like the idea of Harry having a doting father figure slightly obsessed with his sports-skillz.

Also, for those who don't know, the White Elephants are named after (_surprise!_) the A's. See, back when the team was first formed in the 19earlies, to quote the team website "York Giants Manager John McGraw dismissed the A's with contempt, calling them "The White Elephants," Mack defiantly adopted the White Elephant as the team insignia, and in 1902, the A's won the American League pennant."

Of note, although I love my A's, I am by no means (NO MEANS) a baseball expert, being a rather recent convert to the religion. I love it, but I don't think I'll get too technical with any game details as I'd be too likely to mess it up. I did have a totally knowledgeable conversation with another A's fan ac couple of weeks ago about their playoff chances AND TOTALLY KNEW WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT! Exciting!

I'm a nerd. This sports thing is all Greek to me. Fun Greek, though.


	3. Chapter 3: Revelations and Quidditch

A/N: Here we go! Sadly, no Diagon Alley shopping time this chapter, hopefully next. But hope you like it anyway. Harry and the family get their first real taste of the wizarding world.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Chapter Three: Revelations and Quidditch

Harry watched in astonishment as Professor McGonagall transformed into a cat and then back into a woman. _Science…breaking…_For the past half hour, he'd listened in astonishment to an explanation of the world of his parents. Not only were they apparently wand-toting magical types, but everything they learned at school seemed to violate at least one fundamental principle of science, if not many.

Harry wasn't sure what to do with this knowledge.

"So, science is…wrong?" He managed to croak out, emerald eyes widened in dismay.

"Not at all. In the absence of magical interference, muggle science is perfectly valid. But there is an entirely different side to the workings of the universe, one that is controlled by the sometimes chaotic laws of magic," Professor McGonagall smiled gently at him, restraining a chuckle at the expense of his gob smacked expression.

"But...no more science? Do you have maths classes? Or some kind of engineering? What will I _do_ for fun?" Harry gasped out, his mind whirring frantically. Yes, the idea of magic was all well and good, certainly something every child imagines at some point. But he _liked_ science. The idea of banging particles together at close to light speed to try and find new particles, for instance-only science used exploding or colliding of things to discover the most profound secrets of the universe. It was fantastic! And now he'd have to find a new passion.

"Now Mr. Potter, simply because we can break your Newtonian laws does not mean there is no science or maths. There are a great many careers in the field of magical science. Cursebreakers are required to have deep understanding of the interactions between magical signatures and the materials they are used on, for instance. Or medical researchers, who investigate the way certain magics interact with human bodies. Or non-human bodies for that matter," McGonagall used a soothing voice, seeing that the young man was close to a brain-breaking point of horror. "All these careers and many more use a combination of arithmancy and ancient runes to understand the interaction of magic with the world around us. You will have to learn new laws and a new kind of method, but there is a science to it." 

_Oh. Oh good. I can handle new rules, but…god imagine Sir Isaac Newton's face if he could hear this?_ Harry took a deep steadying breath, feeling the panic bubbling in his chest begin to recede. His aunt and uncle called him down from his room in the middle of a delicate moment on his latest creation's circuit board, and he'd come downstairs with the lingering traces of the resultant explosion dusted on his face. Maybe magic could explain why so many of his creations had such spectacular pyrotechnic capabilities beyond what should be possible.

Another horrifying thought surfaced in his mind. _I've not been using magic to cheat at baseball, have I?_

"Can magic…make you better at things, like sports? Only, I don't want to cheat and if I need to stop playing it's better than being a cheater," Harry pinned McGonagall with a steady gaze, determined to do right by the laws of his favorite sport. Greg gasped, almost interrupting with a protest, but Anna elbowed him before he could blunder into male silliness.

"Oh no, Mr. Potter. I've observed your game, and your talents are quite naturally earned. Dear boy, you've spent hours upon hours a week practicing, you certainly don't need magic to succeed," she assured him. It was lovely to see such integrity in him, though. "You will most likely enjoy our most popular Wizarding sport, quidditch. Each of our four dormitory houses at Hogwarts has a team."

"Really? What sort of game is it?" Greg asked eagerly, before Harry could investigate himself. Anna rolled her eyes, more than used to her husband's obsession. It wasn't that Greg liked every sport. He enjoyed football, loved baseball, despised cricket (a sad, boring alternative to his favorite sport), and was generally interested in any new sport he came across.

"Well, there are seven players per side; a keeper, two beaters, three chasers and a seeker. There are four balls in play; the beaters try to control the bludgers, hitting them towards the opposing side with bats, while the chasers…" McGonagall, Greg and Harry began an animated discussion of the finer points of quidditch, with occasional interjections from Annabelle. Three mad sports fans, they found themselves all planning to go to a game the next week; Puddlemere United against the Tutshill Tornadoes.

As the evening grew dark, McGonagall exchanged glances with Harry's guardians, knowing there was at least one more talk she needed to have with the boy. Greg and Anna were already apprised of the situation regarding Harry's fame in the wizarding world, and had agreed that as a friend of his late parents, McGonagall could explain their demise to Harry.

"Well, chum, we're going to get pop into the library for a bit of a read while you have a chat with the professor," Greg clasped Harry's shoulder, a bit more firmly and longer than he'd normally do.

"We're just down the hall if you need us, dear," Anna pressed a quick kiss to his hair as they left the room, Harry giving them an odd look at the unusual display of affection in front of a guest. He was ten years old after all, not used to mushy displays in front of friends and guests. Manly dignity and all.

"Harry, there is a rather serious discussion we must have regarding your parents. It will likely be quite distressing for you to hear, so if you'd like to have your guardians with you, that is fine." McGonagall met his inquisitive gaze levelly.

"I'm fine." Harry was the sort who liked to receive bad news in private, so he'd have a chance to process before talking it over with his family. That was why they'd left him alone with McGonagall, he'd guess.

"Your parents were two of my brightest students. James Potter was a bright, though sometimes a bit too arrogant, young man, and a pride to Gryffindor house. Your mother, Lily Evans was one of the smartest and kindest young women I've ever had the pleasure of knowing," McGonagall began by telling him a bit about his parents' years at Hogwarts. Greg and Annabelle had advised her to be completely honest with Harry; he would rather hear up front about his father's sometimes caddish behavior and his godfather's betrayal than learn it from a less trusted source. He was that sort of boy.

"That night, Voldemort wasn't there for your parents, Harry. He was determined to kill you, specifically, although I don't know why," McGonagall paused, and reached out to clasp Harry's hand in comfort as she could see tears glimmering in his eyes. "He couldn't do it. Somehow, when he cast the killing curse on you, it left you with nothing but that scar. He disappeared that night, some believe he was permanently defeated. Headmaster Dumbledore and I believe he was merely disembodied. He will someday return, and we will do all in our power to prepare you and protect you on that day."

Harry sat in shock, his mind reeling with information. In the start, it had been great to hear about his parents as children. The Dursleys never told him much about his parents; they'd in fact lied to him, saying they'd died in a car crash. Sure, it sounded like his father had been a git to that Snape fellow, but from what he'd seen it was fairly typical for teenage boys to form rivalries that were almost cruel in their execution. He'd ask Greg about it later.

The betrayal of a Godfather was more astounding. It was too strange to imagine; his father's best friend, sworn to protect and love and guide Harry, betraying them in such a way. From what the professor said, Sirius Black had a troubled childhood, far worse than Harry's time with the Dursleys. It seemed strange that after a decade of standing against his family's darkness, Sirius would turn traitor on his friends and suddenly join the Death Eaters.

"So, he targeted me? I…are Greg and Annabelle in danger?" Harry suddenly felt a chill of horror drip down his spine.

"We've already put up the strongest wards we could on the house. If he does return, they will be moved to a fidelius charm protected safe house, I would personally be happy to be secret keeper. We'll do everything we can to keep all of you safe, Harry," McGonagall squeezed his hand gently, still holding it comfortingly between hers. "Now, for how all this will affect you at the moment. The wizarding world regards you as a hero. You are, quite ridiculously, referred to as the-boy-who-lived in print and legend. You will probably find a great many people fascinated by you."

"Me? But…I was just a baby. I didn't do anything," Harry stared at her, seeming somewhat less terrified at least, though a great deal more incredulous.

"You must understand, Voldemort terrorized our world for eleven years. Everyone lost family or friends, and muggleborns or half-bloods will be especially grateful. You were the first person in known history to survive the killing curse, and your survival resulted in the Dark Lord's defeat. People will want to thank you, to give you praise and accolades and you must not let that go to your head," McGonagall added the last bit with a stern voice. "The public is fickle, and allowing yourself to be arrogant or heavy handed will turn them against you quickly. Not that I see you having a problem with that."

"It would just be silly. It's more likely that one of my parents did something to protect me or stop him," Harry's cheeks flushed red. He received a certain level of attention already; being a talented boy put him in the limelight at various occasions such as chess tournaments and his baseball games. He'd never liked bullies and braggarts, however, so he always tried to avoid such behavior.

"Well, I hope you continue to exhibit your current characteristics at Hogwarts. We'll certainly be glad to have you, whichever House you wind up in," McGonagall smiled fondly at him.

"You won't mind if I'm not in Gryffindor?" Harry asked nervously. He did like the idea of being in the same house as his parents, but he honestly thought he'd fit better with the Ravenclaws, based on what McGonagall told him. Ever since reading the Hobbit two years ago, he'd loved riddles, and he certainly liked the idea of a house full of bookworms.

"Harry, no matter which house you're in, I want you to always feel free to come to me for advice or just a cup of tea. Your parents were indeed some of my favorite students, but it was the strength of their character and the caliber of their actions that made them so, not just that they were in my House." McGonagall gave him a final squeeze of the hand before rising. "Now, shall we go tell your guardians that all will be well? Again, any questions or concerns you have, feel free to speak with me. I will send you a note or two every week, just to keep abreast of your progress. And of course, that quidditch match should be an excellent outing."

"Thanks professor! I can't wait for flying lessons, is it hard to keep the broom steady? And how do they make them fly, anyway?" Harry then peppered her with questions until she had to leave.

The next week, McGonagall arrived promptly on time to gather the family for their outing to the Puddlemere Stadium. She brought a game jersey of the home team for Harry, and after making sure all were suitably dressed in team colors, they port keyed to the stadium.

Harry found the dizzying lurch of travel to be incredibly disconcerting, nearly falling over. Greg and Annabelle seemed to handle it a bit better, recovering their balance almost right away. He really hoped that wizards had other ways of traveling, though. Maybe it would get easier after more experience though.

"Well, everybody take a ticket. We're in a rather nice box, Headmaster Dumbledore has season tickets held by his family for the past five hundred years, and he kindly let us have tickets to this game, as he's in London on business today," McGonagall distributed tickets and then ushered them on.

"Five _hundred_ years?" Harry managed to gasp out, while he and his family gaped at the passing witches and wizards. One man had a moving mobile of what he assumed were model quidditch players on his hat, not attached by any wires that Harry could see. As he watched, a mini-Keeper in blue blocked a particularly vicious throw from an opposing chaser.

"Yes. Puddlemere is the oldest team currently in the league, founded in 1163. I believe you may hold season tickets yourself, Mr. Potter, but you'd need to go visit the head office for that. It's nearby, at the team training ground and facilities."

At that moment, they emerged from the magical lift at their box seats, and Harry was struck dumb. The elevated boxes around the field held what looked like it could easily match the capacity of the A's stadium. Every seat was filled with screaming fans, waving colored banners and trailing streams of team colors from their wands. As they found their seats, Harry continued to gaze about in wonder. He only came to when Professor McGonagall handed him a basket of food, with a souvenir drink cup attached.

"That's a Puddlemere Pasty, some chips and a cauldron cake for your dessert. I got you a butterbeer, don't worry there's no alcohol in it, but it's a very popular drink. Eat up, lad. Game starts soon," McGonagall got herself settled on the aisle seat, then showed the family how to attach their concession baskets to the rail in front of them.

Harry pulled out the pasty, almost laughing at the imprinted team logo on the flaky crust. After taking a bite, he had to admit it was delicious. He almost liked it more than chilidogs at A's games. The butterbeer was incredible, though. Warm, buttery and creamy, it was easily the best tasting drink he'd ever had. He quickly made Annabelle and Greg try it, as they were drinking pumpkin juice and fire whiskey, respectively.

A sudden roar of applause and cheers made him put down his food and stand to cheer for the home team as they came into the stadium. Harry watched in delight as the players performed acts of aerial daredevilry that made him breathless to watch.

"That's Benjy Williams, the seeker, with number seven on his back. Geoff Masters is the keeper, number fifteen; Marian Lowrie and Howie Marks are the beaters, numbers twenty-one and eighteen; and Vince Lark, Maddie Murphy and Liz Wood are the chasers, numbers twelve, thirty and twenty-eight," McGonagall explained, pointing at each player in turn as they flew by.

A few minutes later, the chasers of each team faced off as the whistle blew. Puddlemere took possession of the quaffle after a quick kerfuffle at the line, and soared up the pitch. Harry's eyes were wide as the quaffle passed from Lark, to Murphy, to Wood and then at the last minute the Puddlemere chasers faked out a pass to Lark while Wood put it in the hoops.

The Tornadoes Keeper had a sour expression as he heaved the ball back into play, but the Tornadoes Chasers managed to keep possession long enough to make a try at Puddlemere's hoops. A quick kick from Masters put the quaffle back with his players, and just in time as a bludger nearly took his head off a second later.

Lowrie barreled past her keeper, batting the bludger right at the Tutshill chaser trying to steal the quaffle from Lark.

Over the next hour, Harry watched in amazement as bones were broken, players performed ridiculously dangerous stunts in pursuit of the win and the beaters engaged in what seemed to be a grudge match, throwing elbows into each other's faces and kicking passing brooms.

A sudden gasp of the crowd and many pointing fingers had Harry whipping his head around to watch the seekers, now racing each other in pursuit of a speck of fluttering gold. Benjy Williams was barely staying ahead of the Tutshill seeker, both their faces reflecting absolute focus. Harry gasped in excitement as the chase turned right towards his box, the chasers hot on the trail of the snitch which was coming ever closer to his seat.

With a roar of approval from the crowd, Williams caught the snitch barely five feet in front of Harry's face, and pumped his fist into the air while flipping through the air in celebration. The rest of Puddlemere's players raced towards him, engaging in a massive team hug right in front of Harry.

Harry cheered until his voice was hoarse, completely blown away by the game. He'd never seen such an exciting sport; the way every part of the team had different jobs but still kept track of each other was amazing. "I can't wait to try out for the team at Hogwarts!" Harry shouted to McGonagall with a huge grin.

A/N: So…I totally meant to send him to Diagon Alley. I guess they'll do that next chapter, and then somewhere in there will be Harry's birthday, though I'll probably just drop a couple paragraphs about a party with his buddies.

I hope this was a good one for you guys, because I had a great time writing the quidditch bits.

In regards to James and Sev's rivalry: Frankly, I think writers who get all "OMG James was so horrible and Severus such a sweet, angel victim! How could Lily abandon him? AAAAH!" are a bit weird. Or they've never been bullied, either way they're wrong. Snape and the Marauders had a rivalry, and like teenagers everywhere, they often took it too far. But Snape was also becoming friends with the junior Death Eaters during this time. Yes he redeems himself and is a good person by the time Harry meets him, but he only does so because his actions lead to the death of the woman he loved his entire childhood. That's an important thing to notice. He initially didn't care about the safety of James or Harry, he only cared that Dumbledore save Lily.

Now, Sirius's hate for Snape is even easier to understand than James's. Sirius grew up abused and mistreated at the hands of pureblood supremacists that supported Voldemort. His family was mad obsessed with being in Slytherin. So Severus shows up, wishing he could be a part of that culture, the culture his mother grew up in. He idolizes the same type of people who abuse Sirius. Two abused kids with fundamental differences in values meet, and predictably hate each other. I don't think it's fair to hold actions of kids against them when they grow up; that is Severus's greatest failing. We all change a whole hell of a lot once we're out of high school, and the Marauders and Snape are no different.

Sermon over, carry on with your reviews. Oh, BTW would you rather have Harry a Beater, Chaser or Seeker? I'm not sure which position to put him in.


	4. Chapter 4: Diagon Alley

A/N: Ah, the shopping chapter. Wherein we all wish we could visit the stores of Diagon Alley with unlimited funds and buy magical gadgets aplenty.  
This is not the most realistic, edgy chapter. Quite the opposite. I am not fully comfortable with some of my sillier ideas in here, but hopefully you'll like it.

Oh, and do review to let me know what position you'd like him to play, please. Also because I'm desperate for your feedback. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease? I'm pouting. You can't see it, but it's heartrending.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

Chapter Four: Diagon Alley (at last!)

Harry woke up the day after his birthday more excited than he'd ever felt, he was certain. He even beat his alarm to the punch, lining up his shot and taking it out in the first moments of its ringing._ Victory! _Harry smirked as the robotic alarm fell silent, seeming to slump in dismay. Now that he knew about magic, the almost lifelike characteristics of many creations seemed suddenly far more reasonable. After all, it seemed he'd imbued many gadgets with his magic, and it no longer seemed just a figment of his imagination when one displayed something like emotion.

"Sorry, pal, I'll let you get a bit farther tomorrow," Harry said reassuringly as he placed the robot back in position with more care than normal.

Suddenly Harry was faced with a dilemma; one he'd never encountered before. _What does a person wear when taking his first steps into a new world? Tesla? Newton? A's? Maybe a nice button-up? What if I meet a professor and they take offense at my clothes and hate me forever? What if I wear something that means a horrible insult to wizarding types and I don't even know it and __**everyone**__ hates me forever?_

"Annabelle! Help!"

Ten minutes later, Anna sent Harry packing to the shower, a plain black tee, newish jeans and his least grass-stained trainers in hand. Shaking her head at his silliness, Anna headed downstairs to rescue breakfast preparations from her husband.

"You're supposed to cook the bacon, not eat it, Greg! Really, you and Harry are ridiculous in the morning," Anna batted his hands away with the spatula, banishing him to the dining room.

Several minutes later, Harry stampeded down the stairs, making his guardians wonder if they'd eventually need to have the house retrofitted for earthquake safety, as Harry seemed to come closer every day to causing a trembler with his stomping. "Uncle Greg, when are we leaving? Can we go now?"

"Sit down and eat, chum. We'll be off in a bit," Greg waved the hand not holding the paper at Harry's seat, and then perked up as Annabelle entered with platters of food. "Lovely spread, dear. Whatever did I do to deserve such a perfect wife?"

"So I'm perfect when I cook for you, is it? Housewife the sort you want?" Anna put the food down and pinned Greg with a mock-glare, giggling as he looked genuinely nervous for a moment. "Silly man, you're a perfect husband, that's what you did."

"Gross! Stop the mushy!" Harry protested as she sat in Greg's lap and kissed him lovingly. Really, he didn't mind them being lovey-dovey, seeing as he was their matchmaker in the first place. But he really, really didn't want them to get caught up and delay the trip to Diagon Alley. He was getting a wand today!

"Eat your food, Harry," Anna chided, sitting down and doing just that herself.

* * *

An hour later, Harry tugged his aunt and uncle into the Leaky Cauldron, both of them caught up in staring at the building that seemed to come out of nowhere. He was wearing an A's cap backwards, covering his scar nicely. He'd figured it'd help him go unnoticed, not wanting to deal with the adoring public without Professor McGonagall there to help fend them off. She'd glared most people into submission at the quidditch match, an advantage of being most of the audience's former teacher, she'd said. Harry didn't think his own glare would be as effective, and didn't really want to be hostile on his first day as a real wizard anyway.

"Excuse me, sir, how do we get into Diagon Alley? Professor McGonagall said it was through here," Harry elbowed his way into the barkeep's line of sight, making a couple patrons grumble into their mugs in protest.

"Muggleborn, eh? Let me show you how, then you'll be able to let yourself in once you've got a wand," the barkeep wiped his hands on the rag that all such men seem to keep in their apron strings and came around the bar. "Out back this way, m'name's Tom by the by."

"Greg and Annabelle Wells, this is our nephew Harry," Greg gave Tom's hand a firm shake, as did Anna. Harry was a bit distracted staring in wonder as the bricks of the wall formed into an arch. Anna thwapped his shoulder in reminder, and he turned to shake Tom's hand with a sheepish smile.

"Thank you for all the help, sir," Harry said, smiling brightly at Tom.

"No problem at all. You'll want Gringott's first, to change your money. That's straight down that way. And you'd best avoid Knockturn Alley, it's a shady place," Tom gestured down street, before turning back into his tavern.

"Alright, don't wander off now, Harry," Anna ushered her two distracted men along the way. As much as she too wanted to gaze about in wonder, she knew they had a lot to accomplish on this trip. They could always gape about after getting Harry's school things.

Harry managed to keep from tripping over himself as they made their way to the bank, but it was a close thing. By the time they'd reached the steps of the magnificent pillared building, he'd seen levitating displays of cauldrons, a store selling the coveted quidditch gear, and he'd spotted the wand seller's shop. Gulping slightly at the rather intimidating poem on the doors and the rather fierce looking guards, the family made their way inside and stood in line for a teller at the exchange counter.

After exchanging a large sum of pounds ("better to take too much out now than have to come back every time we visit," Greg said), they went to see about Harry's accounts, inherited from his family. McGonagall told them they should check in and get the keys. Apparently, there was the Potter family vault, as well as Harry's educational trust vault.

"Harry Potter and guardians to see about his accounts, please," Anna said to the teller.

"One moment," the goblin growled out, leaving his station and muttering to a nearby lackey. The other goblin hustled off to the back. "Your account manager will be along in a moment. Please wait in the reception area to your right."

They'd barely been sitting a moment when another goblin, this one rather nicer dressed emerged from the hallway. "Mr. Potter?" he asked, kindly keeping his voice low after approaching the family.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, feeling more than a bit intimidated; Greg and Anna's bank was nowhere near as fancy as Gringott's and he felt almost like he was in a museum. Scared to touch anything.

"I'm Goldfist, your account manager. Follow me please," the goblin turned and walked away, not even bothering to check they followed.

A minute later, he held open a door and gestured them into the office behind it. Sitting behind the squat, heavy desk, he opened a thick ledger book waiting for him. The family eased into the seats before the desk, assuming they were meant to sit.

"Well, you won't have access to your family vault until you reach majority at seventeen years of age. Until then, you have access to a trust vault established in your parents' wills. I have the key to that, although your family vault is rather higher security and as such has no key," Goldfist launched into explanations with no preamble, sliding a small golden key across the desk to Harry. "I assume you'd like to go over your balance and investments?"

Harry glanced at his guardians in bewilderment, holding the key in his open palm and not sure what to do. Greg patted his shoulder reassuringly, and turned to Goldfist. "Yes, please."

Goldfist then flipped the ledger around and pointed to each item as he explained it. "This here is your family vault's balance, and these are the non-monetary items stored within. The family jewelry and a few heirlooms. You can access the items now, but no money can be removed without approval by the trustee, one Sirius Black. As he is rather beyond reach at the moment, you'll have to be careful not to overspend your trust. This here is the balance of the trust vault, it should be plenty to get you through Hogwarts. As you can see here, your parents invested in several companies, both muggle and magical. This coupled with your account interest provides a steady income to the estate. Any questions?"

Greg and Anna were a bit shocked at the quick appraisal of Harry's finances; bankers in the muggle world seemed to take much longer to do just about everything, even a routine check deposit. "I don't believe so. I assume you will continue to handle Harry's accounts in the future?" Greg asked.

"For the foreseeable future. Of course, any change to management will be reported to Mr. Potter and his guardians, if he is not of age at the time," Goldfist explained.

Harry's eyes were still a bit wide in shock, and he looked down at the key in his hand with some shock. Anna patted his shoulder, before inquiring about a point that caught her particular interest. "You mean that a convicted felon is allowed to act as trustee in the wizarding legal system? While incarcerated?"

Goldfist sighed heavily; he'd honestly hoped to avoid this conversation. Of course the Wells's wouldn't want Black in charge of their ward's funds, and the Potters were an old enough account that Gringott's of course wanted to avoid any issues. "Well, therein lies the difficulty. You see, Mr. Black was never given a trial, and as such is not a convicted felon. If his place as trustee is an issue for your family, we can over course pursue legal action to see it amended, though I cannot guarantee the results will be to your liking," Goldfist explained.

The Wells's reaction was worse than he expected. Mr. Wells surged to his feet, several truly shocking expletives leaving his lips, while Mrs. Wells turned paper white, her hand covering her mouth as she gave a horrified gasp. "You mean to tell me that this blighted society allows citizens to be incarcerated without _trial_? This is absolutely abhorrent! What in the devil can you trust in your government if they lock people up like this, even with popular opinion in favor! This is a disgrace!"

Greg could have carried on for quite some time. His father was a former member of parliament, one who was strongly against government hijinks of this sort. Being raised by social activists gave him a strong moral code, and he believed that all criminals, even the most vile, deserved a fair shake in court. Anna was raised in a similar manner, though her parents were less involved than his. Both were dismayed at the revelations from Goldfist.

"Where would we go to inquire about his case? If he is guilty, then I want a trial," Anna asked politely as her husband stopped to take a breath.

"The Ministry of Magic, at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would probably be the place to start," Goldfist offered. "Is there anything else, or shall we visit young Mr. Potter's vault now?"

Though still fuming, the Wells's found themselves unable to argue with Goldfist's placid expression and deft handling. Harry was so overloaded with new information that he barely registered the wealth in his vault while gather a supply of money to use. Although Greg and Anna were going to pay for the majority of his school supplies, he thought he could use his parents' money for his wand and maybe a few extras like self-inking quills and quidditch gear, things that were a largely unnecessary expense but would make his time at school more enjoyable.

"Well, we will certainly look into this, Harry. I know that the whole story makes you very uncomfortable, as it should. It seems the entire population reached a conclusion and never stopped to question it, regardless of evidence, when it comes to your Godfather. If he is found guilty after a proper trial, we'll see about having a new trustee appointed. But you shouldn't worry about this, your uncle and I will handle it," Anna comforted Harry as they left the bank. He agreed to put it from his mind as much as he could for now and they decided their next stop should be Ollivander's Wands, just down the street.

* * *

A creepy forty-five minutes later, and Harry emerged with his new wand, and a wrist holster for it. The very idea of carrying what could amount to a weapon around in your pocket rather than secured for easy access was repugnant to Greg. "What if you accidentally blast your butt-cheek off? No, chum, you'll have a holster for that thing."

Despite the somewhat disturbing tie between his wand and Voldemort's, Harry already felt quite attached to it, double checking it was in the holster periodically as they made their way to the general wares shop McGonagall recommended for buying a trunk. Harry did of course have muggle luggage, but McGonagall explained that with subtle levitation charms and even magical compartments, magical luggage would simply be a much more practical solution for bringing possessions to Hogwarts. Harry liked the idea of one with a library compartment, if it was in their price range.

At the shop, Greg and Anna went to speak with the shopkeeper while Harry poked through the various wares. As he fiddled with a strange device that seemed give a variety of readouts on the user's condition (heart rate, emotional state, temperature and the like) another family entered the shop, seeming to also be muggle. Their daughter looked to be Harry's age and her wide eyed wonder matched his own well enough that he'd bet she was a first year too.

Her parents went to speak with the assistant while she also explored the shop. Deciding that it was never too early to start meeting people as he really didn't want to spend the first week at Hogwarts completely without acquaintances, Harry wondered over towards her.

"Excuse me, are you a first year too?" Harry was gratified that she spoke first, and he smiled broadly at her.

"Yeah, just got my wand! You a muggleborns?" Harry reached out his hand to shake hers, taking a moment to get a better look at her. While her teeth were a bit on the horsey-side and her hair almost overwhelmingly curly, she had a pleasant face and looked at least to be friendly.

"Yes. I'm Hermione Granger. I'm just ever so excited to start at Hogwarts, have you heard about the houses? I'm hoping for Gryffindor, that's the house Headmaster Dumbledore was in you know, it seems that would be the best house, but Ravenclaw also sounds good," Hermione seemed set to add more, but then blushed as she realized she was babbling to a boy who hadn't even had a chance to introduce himself yet.

"I'm Harry Potter. I talked about the houses with McGonagall and though my parents were Gryffindors, I think I'd rather fit into Ravenclaw better. I love books and such, you see, and maths. It should be brilliant, being around other kids who actually _want_ to study for class!" Harry grinned at her, not at all perturbed by the babbling. His friend Rhodey was like that when nervous too. The first time they met, Rhodes babbled his ear off for half an hour before Harry could even find out his name.

"Really? Well, I was thinking of Ravenclaw for the same reasons, but don't you think it might be good to be in a well-known house?" Hermione asked anxiously, pulling on a single curl and wrapping it on her finger. She didn't even seem to notice her hand's preoccupation with her hair.

"I guess I can see how it might seem like Gryffindor is best known, but each house has a lot of well-known alumnus. Professor Flitwick, head of Ravenclaw, is a former dueling champion, you know, and almost all our textbooks were written by former Ravenclaws. Also, the chief of staff at St. Mungo's, the hospital you know, she's a Ravenclaw, too, there's a bunch of them in powerful positions," Harry explained. It seemed likely that Hermione was allowing her desire to fit into her new world to cloud her judgment of which house would fit her best, but Harry figured whatever made her happy would be best for her. "Though if you really fit in Gryffindor, they of course are great. Again, my parents were Gryffindors and Professor McGonagall is brilliant. Haven't met Dumbledore, though."

"I guess I'll just see where I end up. Are those your parents? I thought they were non-magical, like mine," Hermione gestured to where both sets of adults were going over various trunk packages. From the wide variety of brochures and parchment, Harry assumed it was more complicated a decision than he'd initially thought.

"No, they're my aunt and uncle. My parents died when I was a baby," Harry explained. Hermione looked horrified at her unintended social gaffe.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't-I mean, I don't want to-I mean-Oh, Harry! That's awful!" And with that, Hermione stopped trying to express her regret and launched herself at Harry, giving him a surprisingly strong hug. Harry was shocked for a moment, but then adjusted to the unexpected and hugged her back.

"No worries, there's no way you could have known. It's really OK, Hermione," Harry reassured her, though he admitted to himself that he rather enjoyed the affection. All his friends were boys, most on his baseball team, and he was still rather starved for emotional reaffirmation of this kind after his life with the Dursleys, though Greg and Anna certainly tried to make up for the early neglect. Still, it would be nice to have a friend that he could go to for the mushier sort of support that boys didn't really get from each other.

"Harry! Come help us make the final decisions for your trunk, dear," Anna called from the front. A moment later, Hermione's parents called her up too. After a couple minutes of discussion Harry decided on a blue leather and bronze trim trunk, to match his hoped-for house. He was delighted to see that his guardians chose one with several compartments, one of them the longed for library compartment.

"Harry, what sort are you getting? We're a bit overwhelmed with choices," Hermione turned to her new friend.

"Well, the best bit is the library compartment. But we've also got drawers accessed from the front and a section for hanging robes and such, as well as a potions compartment and a stationary compartment. Looks like we'll need a quidditch gear compartment too, Anna," Greg checked another item on the list, while his wife rolled her eyes. "Now, love, Harry will have this for the rest of his life. There's no point to getting anything less than the best. Let's throw in general accoutrements compartments one, two and three, and a pet supply compartment. He'll need a familiar you know, like in the stories."

"Well, if you're going to insist on spending so much, you'd best include that toiletries spot, and we might as well go for the platinum security package then. Honestly, Greg," Anna rolled her eyes, but checked another few things on the order form herself.

"A library compartment? They have those?" Hermione turned to stare at her parents in accusatory fashion.

"Eh-heh, I forgot to mention that one. It's not too popular with new students, typically," the assistant helping the Grangers said, blushing in embarrassment.

In the end, Harry and Hermione ordered almost the same trunk, only hers would have no quidditch compartment ("heights are just dreadful!") and be black with gold colored metal trim. While finishing up their orders, the Grangers and Wels's introduced themselves, and realized they had the same stops left to make for the day. So, after paying and being told to expect delivery within the week, the two families left the shop together, determining to head to the Apothecary next.

Most of their purchases were accomplished far more quickly after that, though both sets of adults decided it would be best to keep the bookstore for last, as they were similarly blessed with bookworm children.

"Uncle Greg, can we go to the pet store now? Please?" Harry asked anxiously. He'd been promised a familiar of his choosing as an additional birthday present, as well as the honor of choosing the family owl. Although Hogwarts students were only allowed one pet with them, Greg and Anna decided that having a family owl would be incredibly helpful, not the least for the ability to send letters to Harry or Professor McGonagall whenever they wanted.

While the two children chattered away to each other, the two sets of muggles had formed an easy friendship, finding themselves very similar in interests and political leanings. The Grangers found themselves much soothed by the Wells's calm acceptance of the Wizarding World, and found themselves even deciding to get a family owl as well. They'd initially wanted to keep their home purely non-magical, but a couple hours hearing about all the changes Greg hoped to make to their house had the Grangers also reconsidering. Although magic did interfere with muggle electronics, there were a variety of household improvements that could be equipped with damping wards, which would allow them to be in a muggle house without ruing the computers. Such things would clearly not work on a purely magical construction, such as Diagon Alley or Hogwarts, but Greg and Anna were certainly looking forward to doing away with flickering electric lights and unreliable water heaters, for one.

"Let's see about the owl first. Then we'll go the pet store, alright Harry?" Greg steered him towards Eeylop's Owl Emporium, while the Grangers herded Hermione after.

The inside was dark, with lows sounds of fluffing feathers and clicking beaks. Harry set about examining the owls with great care, while Hermione followed along with him. Not long after entering, Hermione found herself captivated by a stunning eagle owl, and stayed to converse with it while Harry kept searching. Her surprised exclamation of delight when her parents purchased the owl for family use was enough to make Harry jump a bit, and one owl in particular let out a disgruntled squawk. Harry offered the startled owl a quick scratch in apology, and found the determined snowy owl soon after climbing onto his shoulder, quite plainly claiming ownership of the young wizard.

"This the one, chum? She's a beauty," Greg asked in a soft tone, gently stroking the owl on her back. Anna was entranced immediately by their new pet, and both families left the shop with the menfolk carrying owl cages. Fortunately, Diagon Alley stores were used to catering to muggle parents who wouldn't be able to transport everything with magic themselves, and purchases were routinely shrunk to make them easier to transport, and easily un-shrunk by a tap of a wand. Anna's purse had a variety of tiny bags and boxes tucked into a well-insulated compartment of her purse, and she now added a variety of owl accoutrements to the mix.

The pet store was a wonder, filled with oddly colored creatures, many of which were wildly different from any that the group had seen before. Not long after entering, a loud hiss emerged from beneath a shelf of pet care books Mr. Granger was looking over, and they were startled to discover an angry ball of orange fluff hiding under the furniture. Hermione immediately set about coaxing the disgruntled cat out, and soon had him purring in her arms to the astonishment of the clerks.

Harry was having a rather difficult time of it, though. There were fluffy kittens, yes, but rolling about in the pen next to them were kneazles, and next to that were crup puppies. One a shelf in an aquarium were a variety of magical fish, and various cages held a wide variety of rodent like creatures. There even seemed to be some kind of magical hedgehogs. Clearly, he needed to do some research before making such an important decision. Heading to the bookshelves, Harry glanced through them until he found a compendium of popular wizarding pets. With his normal dedication to learning, Harry tuned out the sounds of Hermione begging her parents to let her keep Crookshanks, and skimmed the book quickly.

The animals seemed to be cross referenced with various traits in the glossary at the back, so he decided to look for a pet both intelligent and loyal. He narrowed down his choices systematically, comparing traits of kneazles, crups, knarls and nogtails. Eying the pictures of his final contenders, he decided that either a kneazle or crup would be best, as they looked like normal cats and dogs, for the most part. Mind made up, he went to acquaint himself with the kittens and puppies, determined to make the best choice.

All were adorable, as is the norm with baby animals of all kinds, but none seemed to draw him the way Crookshanks had Hermione. Harry cuddled each in turn, and found each to be a delight but not quite what he wanted. With a sigh of consternation, Harry decided that perhaps he should go off his gut rather than a book, and started examining all the animals on display. At the back of the shop, he found what seemed to be a large bird cage, with cat toys littered on the bottom.

With confusion, he turned to read the placard, and was astounded that it read "Experimental Flying Cat, exclusive! 200 galleons." Turning back to the cage in excitement, Harry tried to spot the animal. Strangely, the cage seemed to be empty. Just as he turned away in defeat, as quite mewl from near his feet distracted him. Looking down, he saw what looked like a kitten pressed up against the cage by his feet. Kneeling down, he stroked its fur through the bars. Kitten seemed to shake, such was the force of its purring. For the first time, Harry noticed the feathery wings on its back, blending almost perfectly into the fuzzy coat.

"Ah, you've seen our flying cat! Yes, she's one of a kind, that one. A bit shy, typically, but she seems to like you well enough," a clerk bustled over, hoping to make a sale.

"Two hundred? That's a bit steep for a pet Harry," Anna cautioned, biting her lip in concern.

"Oh. OK, I'll look again," Harry said, not one to pout and whine. He found himself not wanting to stand though, as the kitten still purred vigorously at his pets.

"We'll give you one-fifty," Greg offered the clerk, making Harry's head shoot up in surprise. Anna sighed, but then nodded in agreement. She could see that Harry was already in love with the dear creature, and she was certainly a pretty little thing. A lovely red tabby with a white chest and tufted ears, the kitten looked almost like their neighbors' Maine Coon had as a kitten.

"Sir, this is a one of a kind animal!" The clerk sputtered in protest.

"150 or no deal," Anna put in, arms crossed.

"I-I must-let me check with the owner," the clerk conceded, slouching through the door to the back office. A couple minutes later he emerged, followed by a short witch with an uncommon amount of cat hair all over her clothes.

"You are the family that wants to buy our Boudicca? Oh, dear me, I'm all in fur, just a moment," the witch waved her wand and the fur disappeared in an instant. With that, she shook hands with Greg and Anna, then turned to look at Harry. "Well, she seems to like the boy. Come now child, introduce yourself, and remove that silly cap. Young people these days!"

Gulping nervously, Harry removed the hat and extended his hand. "Harry Potter, ma'am."

"Why so you are! Dear me, I certainly never expected to have _you_ in my shop! Why, my brother was an auror during the war, retired after, but Merlin knows how much longer he could have survived if you hadn't done away with You-Know-Who," the witch shook his hand eagerly. "I am Lucy Tentwhittle. Oh, of course you must have Boudicca. She's never shown preference before, but of course it would be you! Yes. On the house! Oh, dear, the boy-who-lived in my shop!"

After several minutes of fluttering, the Wells's and Harry emerged with kitten in hand and a selection of pet care purchases stored away. Now, they had only the bookstore left to explore, and they set of with the Grangers.

Harry was pleased to see that Hermione managed to talk her parents into buying Crookshanks, who glared at him for a moment but consented to Harry scratching his ears. The bookstore was incredible. He and Hermione each had a floating basket following them about, overflowing with books. Harry bought introductory texts on arithmancy, ancient runes and several other interesting looking subjects, and also procured books beyond the required texts for each of the core classes. He'd always found that each book was weak in at least one area, and believed a wide range of sources was best.

In particular, the book entitled "Muggleborn Cauldrons: An Introduction to Potions for Muggleborns" to be very promising, especially when compared to their rather sparse potions text. He took McGonagall's advice and made sure to get texts covering the theory behind the wand-magics, and a book that would explain the various interactions of potions ingredients and the best ways to prepare, slice and dice them for certain types of potions. Several supplemental history books were selected as well, and a book that McGonagall recommended, "You're a Wizard! The Best Guide to your New Life" that was intended for muggleborns students, as an intro to the customs and history of magical Britain. It included the fairy tales and bedtime stories a wizard child would read for instance. He made sure Hermione got a copy too, and she made sure that he had a copy of Hogwarts, a History.

After their long day of shopping, the families retired to the Leaky Cauldron for dinner, and then to Florean Fortescue's for ice cream on the recommendation of Tom.

* * *

A/N: Well, here it is. I feel a little nervous about the pets, especially. Boudicca is certainly a bit of a Mary Sue pet, but I'm getting a kitten soon and am crazy excited, so Harry needed one as well.

Hermione clearly won't know who Harry is yet, unlike their meeting on the train, as she has not devoured her books yet. In case anyone was upset about that.

My idea for the owls was that this way we still have Hedwig, but Harry gets a cat too. I can't imagine any muggleborn's family wouldn't at least consider getting an owl to communicate, and as Greg has a good amount of money (I imagine him as a trust fund baby, but a principled, non-douchey one) their house is perhaps more extensive with more surrounding property than many families of new Hogwarts students.

In terms of the Grangers, it's implied that the Grangers aren't super comfortable with the magical world, but if they'd had friends experience the same kind of culture shock, they might have adapted better.

Sirius: He will be free. He was my favorite character growing up, and now vies for that spot with Luna Lovegood. He shall not die, he shall not remain in Azkaban, and he will most certainly require therapy of some kind.

Now, I don't want to do, Harry is fabulously wealthy and makes Malfoy look poor! That's overdone. However, being an old, respected pureblood family, it's safe to assume that James Potter had some sort of investments and inheritance. I also find it hard to believe that Harry would be given full control of the family funds as a child; that makes no sense at all. Parents with means typically set aside funds in trust, with some portion being accessible to the child or the child's guardians.

As the Dursleys had no interest in Harry's future, the issue of banking wasn't in play in the books. But guardians who made no inquiries into the state of Harry's affairs would be idiots, so the Goldfist scene was born.


End file.
